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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27109633">A Noble Calling</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDuckofIndeed/pseuds/TheDuckofIndeed'>TheDuckofIndeed</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ni No Kuni: Wrath of the White Witch (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Baby Brother, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Family, Gascon is a brat, Mother-Son Relationship, Terminal Illnesses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:41:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,406</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27109633</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDuckofIndeed/pseuds/TheDuckofIndeed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When his baby brother was first born, Gascon believed he was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. But his mother offers a change in perspective that helps the young prince to realize that this couldn't be further from the truth.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jairo | Swaine &amp; Lars | Marcassin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Noble Calling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Having recently completed my second playthrough of Ni no Kuni, I had a massive influx of short story ideas, all revolving around my favorite character, Swaine.  I wrote them all down and catalogued them because I am overly organized like that, so that I could sift through them more easily at a later date.  Well, knowing me, now that the game is complete, if I don’t write these stories soon, I might never get around to it.</p>
<p>Point is, I’m proud to present my first short story in five years, this one focusing on a young Gascon and how he eventually bonded with his new baby brother.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At the tender age of seven, Gascon received the worst news of his life.  Honestly, he really couldn’t think of anything ever being able to top it.  It was awful.  <em>Bloody</em> awful, the extra embellishment being a word he had heard the guards say when they really wanted to get across how truly terrible something was.  He was scolded by his nursemaid every time he said the word, but no one could stop him from thinking it.</p>
<p>Soon enough, he was going to have a sibling.</p>
<p>It didn’t matter if it was a girl or a boy.  It didn’t matter what he or she looked like or what kind of personality they would have or even if they ended up liking him.  All he knew with absolute certainty was that he would definitely <em>not</em> like <em>them</em>.  Not one bit.  And seeing as the baby’s arrival was only a few months away, and he had heard that babies took nine months to be born, it only irritated him all the more that they had taken so long to tell him the bad news.</p>
<p>Why was he always the last to be told <em>anything</em>?</p>
<p>The first person to tell him was his nursemaid.  She was smiling when she said it, like it was a good thing.  Well, maybe it was a good thing for <em>her</em> because it meant she’d be able to keep her job even when Gascon was too old to need her to look after him anymore.</p>
<p>The second person to confirm that this awful rumor was indeed fact was none other than his father.  The Emperor of Hamelin had always been a harsh and intimidating sort of man in all the years Gascon had known him.  Why such a man would even want another child when he barely had time for the first was beyond the young prince’s comprehension.  Mother, too, come to think of it.  She always looked so tired lately.  As far as he was concerned, adults made the dumbest decisions.</p>
<p>Gascon had stomped his feet when he heard the news told to him that second time.  He had stomped and yelled, even if the outcome to his little tantrum could have been all too easily predicted.  “But I don’t <em>want</em> a sibling!” the young boy had said, earning a glare from his father that was not entirely unexpected, but very much undeserved.</p>
<p>“You clearly don’t have a choice in the matter,” the man had said, his voice low, in no mood to compete with his son’s outburst.  At least not in volume.  His authority alone was enough to win any argument.  Perhaps once Gascon was Emperor, it would be <em>his</em> turn to scold his father.</p>
<p>The child had attempted to appeal to his mother next, who was reclining on the nearby sofa, her tired face impassive and her stomach already big and round beneath her dress.  He hadn’t visited her in a while, or else he would have noticed sooner that something was dreadfully wrong with her.  Even now, she looked ready to fall asleep.  Look what the baby was already doing to her, and it wasn’t even here yet.</p>
<p>“Why am <em>I</em> not good enough?” Gascon had said, stomping his foot once more for good measure.</p>
<p>This question seemed nearly enough to coax a response from his mother, but as usual, his father was the first to speak.  “Enough!  Until you can learn to behave, you will leave at once!”</p>
<p>And Gascon <em>did</em> leave, though he would have preferred to leave the palace entirely rather than merely his mother’s bedchamber.  If he continued to find himself unwanted, in his own home, no less, then perhaps that’s exactly what he’d do.  Then Father would be sorry.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The baby was born several months later, a boy by the name of Marcassin.  Everyone cooed and awed over how adorable he was.  How <em>pretty</em> he was.  When Gascon had been summoned to see the baby for the first time, he was hardly impressed.  He hardly looked any different from any other baby.  He was chubby and small and had black hair like Mother.  He was definitely <em>not</em> pretty <em>or</em> cute, though Gascon could think of a few words that <em>would</em> describe him pretty well.</p>
<p>A small part of him was relieved to see that the baby was nothing special, despite what the adults were saying.  And he could only hope that soon enough, everyone else would come to their senses and realize that babies, particularly this one, weren’t really as great as people made them out to be.</p>
<p>His nursemaid held Marcassin every chance she got.  When Gascon asked her if she had bothered to give <em>him</em> that much attention when he was little, she only rolled her eyes.  But she was one thing.  She was a girl, and it was common knowledge that girls were obsessed with babies.</p>
<p>It was quite another thing to see Father dote on him so.  To see Father smile at the baby held tenderly in his arms.  Father never smiled at him.  Father never smiled at all.  Not until Marcassin was born.  Many times in the past, Gascon had wondered if Father even liked him.  Whenever he had asked Mother about such things, she had always told him that he was being silly.  But right now, it was hard to believe her.  Maybe the baby had changed nothing.  Maybe Father had never loved him at all.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It was roughly five months after Marcassin was born, and Gascon had marched into his mother’s room to inform her that he was running away.</p>
<p>His mother was sitting in bed, as had become common for her this past year or so.  At this statement, she set the book she had been reading upon her lap, bookmark tucked between two pages in particular in the event that she needed to pick up from where she had left off.  Delicate eyebrows set above weary eyes raised at her eldest son’s words, and a crooked grin appeared upon her face.  “You are, are you?  And where do you think you’re going?”</p>
<p>He climbed up onto her bed so that he could sit nearby, his legs dangling over the edge.  “I haven’t decided yet.  But I was thinking of becoming a pirate.”  It wasn’t a joke, but she kept on smiling.</p>
<p>As she thought this over in silence, her blue eyes glittered in the flickering light emanating from the gas lamp on her night table.  Once it seemed she had thoroughly contemplated the details of her son’s plan, she nodded.  “That’s not a bad idea.  But do pirates typically hire seven-year olds?”</p>
<p>He had wondered much the same thing, and if even <em>she</em> was thinking it, then perhaps it would be a problem, after all.  “Pirates have to start somewhere, don’t they?” he reasoned.  “I thought that if I got a head start, then I could be one of the greatest pirates there ever was.”</p>
<p>“Pirates don’t get their own bedrooms, you know.”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>“And you’ll be spending a lot of your time on the ocean.  You think you can teach yourself how to swim?”</p>
<p>“I think so…”</p>
<p>Her smile continued to grow, despite the seriousness of her son’s plans.  “Are you okay with losing, let’s say, an arm or a leg?  You wouldn’t be a real pirate without a missing limb, now would you?”</p>
<p>At this, the young boy’s eyes widened.  “It’s not like they lose body parts on purpose!  I’ll just be careful!”</p>
<p>His mother barely suppressed a yawn and returned to reading, her interest in the matter already waning.  “Well, I suppose you have to do what you think is best.  Just make sure you write.  And watch out for krakens, okay?”</p>
<p>She seemed to be far too accepting of this.  Gascon frowned.  “What’s a…cracking?”</p>
<p>“A kraken is just a massive squid.  They’re capable of sinking ships with such ease, by the time the crew knows that one is upon them, it’s usually too late.”  She peered over the top of her book at him.  “I suppose my little pirate still has a lot to learn.  That’s why you’re right to get started as soon as you can.”</p>
<p>Though he could no longer see her mouth now that her book was covering the lower half of her face, Gascon could just hear the smile in her voice.  Now this was very concerning indeed.  He would have thought that <em>Father</em> would be excited to see him leave.  But not his mother.</p>
<p>“So…you’re not going to say no?”</p>
<p>“Gascon, since when has <em>that</em> ever stopped you?”</p>
<p>Well, the young boy really didn’t know what to make of <em>this</em>.  He was just about to drop down from her bed when his mother sighed.  “It’s a shame, though.”</p>
<p>Gascon looked back at her, all too eager to delay his departure.  “What’s a shame?”</p>
<p>She shook her head.  “Don’t you worry about it.  When you leave home, I don’t want you to have any regrets.  Forget I said anything.”</p>
<p>His brow furrowed in confusion over his mother’s cryptic words.  “No, I want to know.  What’s a shame?  What am I going to regret?”</p>
<p>His mother returned the book to her lap, still open, but forgotten once more.  “I just had better plans for you.”  She shrugged.  “But I suppose if you’d rather become a pirate…”</p>
<p>Plans?  For <em>him</em>?  Then what did they need Marcassin for?  He just <em>knew</em> the baby had been Father’s idea.  “What kind of plans?” he asked.  He supposed it couldn’t hurt to hear her out.</p>
<p>“Come here.”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“Just come here.”  Completely against his will, his mother leaned forward and pulled him in close.  “You know I love you, don’t you?”</p>
<p>She was far stronger than she looked, for as much as Gascon squirmed in her arms, he was entirely unable to break free.  Seeing as he was not getting out of this, he eventually settled in next to her, breathing heavily.  If he wanted her to loosen her grip, he needed her to let her guard down.  “Mom, stop!”</p>
<p>“Gascon, do you know why I had you first?”</p>
<p>“Let go of me!”</p>
<p>Ignoring his protests, she went on, “Because, out of the two of you, I knew you’d make the best big brother.”</p>
<p>Sooner or later, he just <em>knew</em> the conversation would be steered towards Marcassin again.  Precious Marcassin.  What was so great about him anyway?  “You had no way of knowing that,” he said.  When his mother laughed, he went on, “You didn’t even know Marcassin was a <em>boy</em> until he was born.  You’re just making all that up.”</p>
<p>“That’s where you’re wrong.”  She squeezed him even tighter when he attempted to struggle free from her grasp once again.  “I knew both of my boys since long before they were born.  Call it a mother’s intuition.”</p>
<p>Gascon snorted quite loudly at this, but she continued anyway.</p>
<p>“You’re going to be one of the most important people in Marcassin’s life, and he in yours,” she spoke louder when he adamantly denied this, “I need you to protect him.”</p>
<p>This time, Gascon actually managed to break through her words.  “But I don’t <em>want</em> to protect Marcassin.  I don’t even like him!”</p>
<p>“Protecting those weaker than you is the most noble thing you can do, Gascon.  Your brother is going to look up to you.  He’s going to know you his entire life.  I want to know that the two of you will always have each other, even long after your father and I are gone.”</p>
<p>Gascon had since gone still, his earlier protests dying inside him.  He looked up at her.  “What do you mean?  Nothing’s going to happen to you, right?”</p>
<p>His mother said nothing at first, but continued to hold him close.  It was not until he hugged her back that she replied, stroking his hair with one hand as she did so.  “No, no, don’t you worry about a thing.  I’m not going anywhere, my son.  I promise.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Gascon peered into Marcassin’s crib from atop the stepstool he had brought over, his visit to the nursery spurred on only by his mother’s insistence and her threat that if he didn’t heed her command, she’d hunt him down and hug him in front of people, and no one needed to see that.  The baby’s dark hair had since grown and was no longer a sad wisp like it was when he was born, and he was bigger.</p>
<p>He was equally as terrible, though.</p>
<p>The elder prince stared down at the younger, a sour sort of frown upon his face as the baby blinked up at him, looking utterly oblivious to the strife his mere existence was causing.  His mother had asked him to talk to the baby.  She hadn’t specified what he should say, however, and he figured it hardly mattered when the infant had no way of understanding him anyway.</p>
<p>“I don’t get why people like you so much,” was the first thing that came to mind.  He might as well be honest.  It wasn’t as if he could hurt the baby’s feelings.  “You can’t do anything, and you cry a lot, and you smell.  Sometimes, you smell bloody awful.”  There was that word again.  He wasn’t supposed to say it, but what was Marcassin going to do about it?</p>
<p>He sighed when the baby continued to stare up at him in blank incomprehension.  “You don’t even understand a…a bloody word I’m saying to you, do you?”  He could say a real swear word right now, and no one would even know.  He was just thinking up a good one when Marcassin stuck his thumb in his mouth.  Even with the knowledge that his sins would go unpunished, he lost his nerve.</p>
<p>“I hear all sorts of bad words from the palace soldiers, you know.  I’m not supposed to sneak into the barracks, but I do sometimes.  I wouldn’t recommend it, though.  Father wouldn’t like it, and you’re lucky you’re even on his good side.”  Gascon couldn’t help but grimace as he thought over what he had just said.  At least Mother still liked him, he supposed.  But would she always, or would even <em>she</em> prefer Marcassin soon enough?  “You just got here, and Father already likes you more than me.”  The older boy slumped, his arms resting atop the crib’s railing.  It was hopeless.  Was this enough to satisfy his mother, or did he really have to keep going?</p>
<p>“I’m only here because Mother told me I had to come see you.  She says I’ll have to protect you one day.  But it’s not fair.  I never asked you to come here in the first place.”  Even now, his baby brother remained silent.  Gascon could tell him absolutely anything, and he couldn’t repeat it back to anyone.  As if to test his theory, he leaned in closer and continued in a near whisper.</p>
<p>“I snuck out of the palace for the first time.  Just a few days ago.  Bet you didn’t know that.  Father would be furious if he found out.  <em>Everything</em> I do seems to make him angry.  But you couldn’t tell him about if even if you wanted to.”</p>
<p>He cringed, pausing to study the infant for a moment.  Blimey, did the baby ever stop sucking his thumb?  It was really gross.</p>
<p>“I’m lucky you can’t talk.  Even when you can, you have to promise you won’t tattle on me.  It’s the least you can do if I’m expected to look after you.  If you can do that, I won’t tell Father about any of the naughty things <em>you</em> do, either.”  He shook his head.  What did he hope to get out of this?  His little brother didn’t understand anything he had to say.  And even if he did, nothing he said would ever matter anyway.</p>
<p>Gascon climbed down from the stepstool and studied the baby through the bars, who had turned his head to watch him.  He was just about to walk away when his little brother rolled over onto his side and reached for him with one tiny arm.</p>
<p>“What?  What do you want?  I don’t have anything for you.”</p>
<p>“Bah…” the baby babbled and flexed his chubby fingers at him.</p>
<p>“Bah,” Gascon repeated and put his hands to his waist.  “Are you a sheep now?  I don’t want a sheep for a brother.  You’re bad enough as you are.”  Wouldn’t <em>that</em> be awful, his Father loving a farm animal more than his own son?  He made a sheep sound at his brother, a proper one, and the baby giggled at him.</p>
<p>“You’re really stupid if you think <em>that’s</em> funny.  If anything, you’re supposed to be a pig, not a sheep.  That’s what Hamelin’s known for.  Pigs.  Fat, little pigs.”  Gascon leaned in closer to better study the smiling infant.  “You’re so chubby, you even <em>look</em> a bit like a piglet.”</p>
<p>As if in retaliation, the baby reached out from his crib and whacked Gascon in the face.  “Oi, what was <em>that</em> for?”</p>
<p>At his older brother’s stunned reaction, the baby howled with laughter twice as loud as before, as if it was the funniest thing in the world.  At just a few months old, he certainly had a rotten sense of humor.</p>
<p>“Oh, you think that’s funny, do you?  How do <em>you</em> like it?”  With one finger, Gascon reached out and poked Marcassin on the nose, earning another chuckle in response.  Gascon did it again, this time with an added “oink” for effect.  The baby giggled again, and the older boy became distinctly aware of a grin tugging at his lips.  No, he wasn’t smiling.  Not at the baby.  Marcassin was, and would always be, the worst thing that had ever happened to him.</p>
<p>“You’re so dumb,” he said and spluttered when he received another slap to the face.  “Ow, stop it!”</p>
<p>He grabbed the baby’s flailing arm to hold it steady in case of further attack.  Even then, Marcassin continued to grin at him through the bars.  He could only hope his younger brother would eventually outgrow his newfound love of slapping people, or else they’d have a real terror on their hands.</p>
<p>“Mother was right,” Gascon muttered.  “You’re bloody hopeless.”  But with a little extra guidance on Gascon’s part, maybe he wouldn’t turn out so bad, after all.  Between Father’s constant focus on managing the empire and Mother’s perpetual tiredness, who else was there, really?</p>
<p>Gascon supposed, when you looked at it that way, he didn’t have much of a choice.  The job had fallen to him and him alone.  Pirating would have to wait, at least for a little while.  He really did have more important things to do.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Marcassin was only three years old.  He was the most clueless out of all of them.  Gascon was already ten and knew what was going to happen.  He kind of wished he didn’t, though.</p>
<p>Mother’s condition had been worsening over the years.  Now, she was always weak, always tired.  Gascon remembered what it used to be like, years ago, before she had become pregnant with Marcassin.  She was stronger then.  She helped Father rule the empire.  And in her free time, he would often find her reading in the library, about anything ranging from history to fantastical novels to manuals on mechanical engineering.  She seemed like she knew about absolutely everything.  And if there was anything she <em>wasn’t</em> currently an expert on, she would be soon enough.  He had spent many long evenings sitting on the library sofa with her, listening to her read aloud whatever was in hand at the moment.</p>
<p>Sometimes, she would stroke his hair as she read.  As he got older, he told her to stop.  Because it was embarrassing.  Because she was treating him like a baby.  Now he missed it.  If he had known that this was going to happen, he would have just tolerated it and said nothing.  He would have allowed her to pet his hair well into adulthood if it meant keeping her here longer.</p>
<p>Now, she hadn’t left her room in months.  He didn’t know what was wrong with her.  He never found out, but it didn’t matter because it was serious, and this time, she was not going to get better.  That’s all he wanted.  Was for her to get better.  But if she wasn’t, he didn’t care what she had.  He couldn’t help her either way.</p>
<p>Marcassin was sitting on the bed with her, chatting happily about his day while she listened and stroked his hair in the very same manner that Gascon had taken for granted.  He wouldn’t shut up.  He wouldn’t just go away and leave her in peace.  He had no idea how sick she was.  He was too young to understand.  He only relished in one of the rare times their family was actually in the same room together.  Mother was often asleep.  Father was often too busy.</p>
<p>Their father sometimes stood in silent reverence, his arms folded behind his back.  Sometimes he paced or stared out the window, so still and quiet, it was as if he was merely a statue.  Gascon simply remained slumped in a chair in the corner.  He didn’t want to be here.  He didn’t want to see her like this, with her exhausted face, barely able to hold her head up without the pillow propped behind her back.  But he was afraid that if he left, this would be the last time he’d see her at all.  So he was stuck between two competing desires, his chest tight and his heart numb.</p>
<p>Gascon was only half aware of his father standing before him.  He looked up to find Marcassin held in his arms, the child’s short arms wrapped around his father’s neck.  His little brother attempted to smile down at him, only to stop when the expression wasn’t returned.  The man was as solemn as ever, but the harshness was gone, like a blade whose edge had been worn down with age and overuse.  He nodded, squeezing his eldest son’s shoulder with his free hand before leaving the room.</p>
<p>That was all the encouragement the older prince needed.  He ran to his mother, climbing onto the bed that was still a bit too high to ascend without effort.  He hugs her and promises that he’ll take care of Marcassin.  It was the most important thing she had ever asked him to do.  The best she can manage is a mumbled confirmation that she never doubted him for a second.</p>
<p>He tells her that he loves her.  He didn’t do that very often.  Because it seemed too mushy of a thing for a boy to do and because he assumed she already knew.  But he tells her now, as many times as he can to make up for all the times he hadn’t done so or he had returned her love only reluctantly.</p>
<p>He left her an hour later when she was too tired to stay awake any longer and wandered the palace corridors with not a single care for where he was going.  Eventually, he settled for sitting down wherever he happened to be at the moment with his back pressed against the cold wall behind him.  No one else was around.  So no one would see his weakness when he held his face in his hands, when he felt his breathing hitch in his chest.</p>
<p>No one else was around, but Marcassin still found him.  It was as if his little brother had his own personal radar that allowed him to find the eldest wherever he happened to be.  It was as if they were connected by an invisible string that only the youngest son of the Emperor could see.  Gascon could never escape from him.  Most of the time, he didn’t want to.  But there were times, times like these, when he did.</p>
<p>Marcassin sat down next to him, right next to him, close enough to touch.  He hugged far too often.  He held his older brother’s hand every chance he got.  He seemed to have no concept of personal space where the two of them were concerned.  But Gascon allowed it, for if he moved away, Marcassin would only follow.</p>
<p>Gascon looked away when his little brother tried to study his face.  “Are you sad?” the younger boy said.  The words were spoken in a whisper.  For some reason, it seemed fitting.</p>
<p>His hair wasn’t as long as Marcassin’s.  If it was, perhaps he would have pulled it over his face.  He didn’t want to be looked at.  He didn’t want to be bothered, not right now.  Right now, he just wanted to be left alone, to hide for another year or two, until long after this whole horrible mess was over and done with and the wounds had been given a chance to heal.  He said nothing, only spurring his brother to speak again.</p>
<p>“What’s wrong, Gascon?  Isn’t Mummy going to get better?”</p>
<p>He hoped his little brother didn’t notice the tears that slid down his face.  It would have been okay if he was alone.  But he was the eldest.  He was supposed to be stronger than that.  If his resolve broke now, Marcassin would be upset.  He would feel the need to comfort his big brother, and that’s not the way it was supposed to be.  It was supposed to go the other way around.  Gascon was supposed to take care of <em>him</em>.</p>
<p>He took a deep breath in an effort to compose himself.  It almost worked, as his voice only shook a little bit.  “Sure.  I’m just worried, that’s all.”</p>
<p>As much as he had tried to prevent this, he felt Marcassin wrap his small arms around him.  It had been inevitable, he supposed.  He had done a poor job of hiding his pain, of making sure that the overwhelming fear that threatened to spill forth from within his chest would remain a secret from the rest of the world.</p>
<p>In return, Gascon held his younger brother closer still as more tears slipped free.  “I’m always going to watch out for you, Marcassin,” he said, though he wasn’t sure if his younger brother could even hear him.  The words were so quiet, so distant.  Not even a whisper.</p>
<p>Marcassin needed him.  Soon, they would need each other more than ever.  He had promised his mother.  He wouldn’t let her down.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Before I go, I must recommend a story that inspired this one, Thief Prince by Yuni30.  On that note, if you’re a fan of Swaine like I am (I mean, you did read this story, after all…), Yuni30 has a whole lot of awesome Swaine-centric stories you should definitely check out!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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